Sketches from the Bottom: Do I Have to Be Nice?
Part 2 of a series. Read the first story here.
As soon as Randy* began talking, I wanted to avoid him for the rest of the summer.
I met Randy when I started my summer internship at a homeless rescue mission.
Randy rocked back and forth in moments of uncertainty and lacked all social graces. At the slightest encouragement, he would share decades of sports statistics in a loud voice. He was alternately rude, insulting, congenial, sensitive – completely oblivious to all relational cues except to the fact that most people didn’t like him.
Owing to tension with other residents in the recovery program, he also had a need for female attention. So he sought out the women in the building to get the affirmation that he craved. He also stuffed his relational vacuum with food. He always remembered good meals from the past several days, particularly the quality of any meat that was served, and he nursed multiple desserts at meal times.
Due to his personal needs, he did not realize the hole he tried to fill with food and how his social limits repelled the people whom he desperately needed.
Randy was a tough package. It was his third stay with us after previous relapses. As with so many of the men, we were it, and we could not toss him into the street. He was unable to function on his own.
Each time that I heard about Randy’s relapses or other failures, I wanted to throw up my hands. How could a person who was given so many chances mess up so badly? Why did we have to help a person who had so little in him to like?
As I started to form relationships with people like Randy in the addictions recovery program, I was amazed by their past choices: stealing, lying, and destroying relationships with spouses, girlfriends, and children. How could they screw up that much? I wondered.
Then I realized what I was doing: presuming that my unseen issues were not as bad as someone else’s visible ones. Presuming that I had the right to pass judgment.
Self-righteousness is a toxic sham. Both Randy and I are in desperate need of daily, unmerited grace.
Now, enablement is one thing, but treating others with dignity and respect, no matter what they’ve done, is quite another. Randy deserves love and a listening ear – those are not mine to withhold as I see fit.
I do not decide who receives grace. I am no better or worse.
*Name changed to protect privacy